They give tentative nods, but they’re careful not to mention what happened when I tried to levitate Ward through the catacombs. Or rather, what didn’t happen. Perhaps it wasn’t a matter of exhaustion as much as it was inattention. I have to be focused when I Speak, and I had just learned about my not-brother. Forgive me if my focus might not have been one hundred percent on lifting Ward off the ground.

“Regardless, Kael’s right—we could all do with an hour of rest after the day we’ve had,” Arryn says.

There’s little point in arguing, since Kael has already taken off.

I push my bowl away in preparation to leave, my stomach now aching from being so full. Gustav’s creamy soup was so delicious that, even though I’m stuffed, I’m tempted to lick the bowl.

“Let’s head back to our room for a bit,” I tell Cami, who is still too quiet. “Sixty minutes, then we’ll hunt down Kael. All right?”

Her answer is to push her own bowl away and rise from her seat.

I look at Arryn, schooling my face into nonchalance when I ask, “Are you going to your room? Or do you have a security something or other to oversee?”

She seems amused by my lack of knowledge about what it is exactly that she does. “I need to check in with the surveillance room to see what happened while we were gone, but then I’ll probably go for a soak before we head to the holding cell. I’m pretty gross after everything we did today.”

She’s not the only one. Cami and I are both covered in dried sweat and dirt from our travels through the various tunnels and especially from our descent down the rusted ladder into Lengard. Like Arryn, I’m very much looking forward to a long soak in the catacombs’ thermal springs. And given that she’ll be there, too … It might just be the perfect place to have the conversation we need to have.

“Guess we’ll see you in an hour, then,” I tell her, not giving away my intention to see her before then, as I follow the silent Cami from the dining hall.

She’s traveled enough of the passageways that she’s able to get us back to our room without any wrong turns—a miracle, in my opinion—and only once the door is closed do I look at her drawn face and say, “We’re so close, Cam. I know you’re worried about him—I am, too. But we’re so close to freeing him now. An hour, then he’ll be back with us.”

I’m not sure if she believes me or not, but what she says next isn’t at all what I expect.

“It’s not that. I mean, sure, I’m worried. But more than anything else, I’m angry.”